Biology 101
by Ragua
Summary: As usual, Trip is a magnet for trouble during an away mission. Set prior to Season 3. COMPLETE


**Biology 101**

**by Ragua**

Disclaimer:Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.

A/N: This story is pre-Expanse, and is one of two stories rejected for publication in _Strange New Worlds 8_, an anthology of Trek stories written by fans. But thanks to the Internet, rejection will not prevent this loser from seeing the light of day! Whoo hoo!

* * *

_Why?_ Commander Charles Tucker III wondered as the ground accelerated away from him at an alarming rate. _Why is it always _me

The thought drifted through his mind in a surprisingly calm fashion, despite the fact that he was defying gravity. Neither his phase pistol nor his communicator were similarly immune to the laws of physics. He attempted to grab them as they fell, but his reflexes and hand-eye coordination were on par with his luck. He watched the devices shatter on the stone floor a good 30 meters below where he hung upside-down.

Back on _Enterprise_, some lucky crewman had a lot of money coming. An anonymous entrepreneur—Trip suspected Travis Mayweather—had started a pool on the particulars of when, where, and how the hapless Chief Engineer would be involved with his next landing party disaster. Pregnant, slimed, bludgeoned, seduced, roasted, kidnapped, shot—the possibilities were endless, and the wagering was always enthusiastic.

_Yep,_ Trip thought morbidly, gazing at the ground far, far below, _somebody's gonna make a killing._ He angled his head to get a better look at the thing that held him by the ankle. _I just hope it's not this guy_.

* * *

Hoshi Sato gaped as her superior officer dangled precariously overhead. She and Commander Tucker had been taking readings in one of the enormous caverns that dotted the surface of the Minshara Class planet _Enterprise_ was currently exploring. The engineer had decided to climb a steep slope to the mesa above in order to get a better view of the area.

"Be careful, Sir, it might not be stable."

As if her cautionary words were a catalyst, the ground beneath the Commander began to move before he had gone more than five meters. At first she thought it was a simple earth tremor. Then the slope undulated like a caterpillar, as if consciously moving out from under the engineer, like some sort of sentient treadmill. Trip backpedaled frantically, flailing his arms in an attempt to maintain his balance. When his feet flew up in the air, Hoshi fully expected to see him crash to earth headfirst. Instead, his feet remained in place while the rest of his body swung down and back like a pendulum.

The Communications Officer continued to stare openmouthed, her mind unable to grasp the fact that what had appeared to be just another geological formation was actually some kind of invertebrate lifeform—an extremely _large_ lifeform. One that apparently took exception to bipeds who tried to climb it.

The creature had created a snare of sorts out of its malleable torso, and was suspending Commander Tucker in the air by his right ankle. Hoshi watched in horrified fascination as it began to ooze, amoeba-like, up what was now revealed to be a sheer rock face, trailing the wriggling engineer behind it, like a fish on a hook.

* * *

Sub-Commander T'Pol was busy taking tricorder readings when the communicators beeped, so Lieutenant Malcolm Reed answered the hail. The frantic voice of _Enterprise's_ Communications Officer echoed through the cavern.

"There's something here! Something alive!" Hoshi was definitely panicking. "It's got Commander Tucker!"

Before Reed could answer, the Vulcan flipped open her own communicator. "Ensign, remain calm. What is your location?"

"Uhm..." Malcolm could picture the young linguist struggling to get her bearings. "We're in the southernmost cavern. About 350 meters from where we left you when the tunnels diverged."

"Retreat to a safe distance, but try to maintain visual contact with the Commander," T'Pol ordered. "We are on our way."

Without waiting for instructions, Reed set off in the direction indicated by the Communications Officer, phase pistol at the ready. T'Pol followed briskly, adjusting her tricorder to take readings of the terrain ahead of them.

_Bloody hell,_ Malcolm cursed as he pounded down the tunnel. _What kind of trouble has Mr. Tucker got himself into this time?_

* * *

Trip felt he was maintaining his composure admirably, given the circumstances. He had ceased flapping like a large bird, and he'd only cussed once. Well, maybe twice, but he didn't really think it was fair to count the initial "Son of a biiiiiiitch!" since he'd been caught by surprise.

The engineer's attention was currently divided between fending off the advances of the enormous blob-like alien, while simultaneously avoiding a sure-death plummet to the floor of the cavern below. It was quite a balancing act.

The alien, although safe on solid ground itself, held him over the edge of the mesa with a limb fashioned from the bulk of its torso. Trip got the impression that it found him slightly repulsive and wanted to keep him at a safe distance.

_Like it thinks I have cooties or something,_ the engineer grumbled to himself, offended.

Still, the alien was definitely curious, as evidenced by its poking at him with other spontaneously generated limbs. Trip was doing his damnedest to brush the probing tendrils away without annoying the creature enough that it decided to drop him.

"Commander!" A voice drew his attention away from the dubious first contact situation. It was T'Pol. "What is your status?"

Damn, she seemed far away! Was he really up that high, or was it an optical illusion from being upside-down? Maybe it was all the blood rushing to his head.

"Oh, you know, T'Pol," he responded. "Just hangin' around."

A slightly hysterical giggle escaped the Communications Officer, and Reed smirked as well. Trip heard the Armory Officer tell the Vulcan, "You walked into that one, Sub-Commander."

T'Pol, of course, did not react at all. "Do you believe that the alien intends to harm you?" she asked.

Trip gaped at her in disbelief. What kinda dumbass question was that? Did the alien intend to _harm_ him? It was dangling him half a football field above a hard rock floor, for God's sake! "Oh, no, Sub-Commander. We're just exchangin' pleasantries up here!"

"Sarcasm is unnecessary, Commander," the Vulcan chided blandly. "You are obviously uninjured and are capable of communicating with us. Had the creature intended to harm you, that would not be the case."

"Maybe it's like a cat—just playing with its food?" Hoshi volunteered brightly. She wilted under the combined glare of the three senior officers.

"That is neither likely nor helpful, Ensign," T'Pol scolded.

"Maybe _you_ have been watching too many horror movies," Reed added sanctimoniously. The Communications Officer narrowed her eyes and returned his glare.

Trip decided that it was time to bring their attention back to his plight. "I don't think that now's the time to discuss the Movie Night fare." He glanced back at the Blob. Several of its makeshift fingers hovered near his face, curving back ever-so-slightly in a posture that suggested increasing curiosity. That made the engineer nervous. The last thing he needed right now was the interest of an enormous, slate-gray alien blob.

"Anyone down there have any suggestions about how I can get out of this?"

T'Pol analyzed the situation. The alien had not harmed Commander Tucker. Its current behavior suggested that while curious, it intended to proceed with caution. _A wise decision when faced with an unknown entity,_ she acknowledged, eyeing her shipmate. _Particularly one as mercurial as Mr. Tucker._

"The creature does not appear to be malicious," the Science Officer finally offered. "It may, in fact, be an intelligent life form. I would suggest attempting to communicate with it."

Tucker gave her the evil eye. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?!" he demanded.

"Unless there is a more advanced form of human communication of which I am unaware," T'Pol responded coolly, "the normal method of verbal discourse would be the most logical choice."

_That was definitely sarcasm, _Trip decided. Those Vulcans were full of crap when they said they didn't do feelings. T'Pol had just smarted off to him, and _that_ required emotions.

"You really don't have a whole lot of alternatives, Commander," Hoshi added.

"I _could_ shoot the creature," Reed offered, perking up slightly.

"Firing upon the alien might cause it to release its hold on Commander Tucker," T'Pol stated. "Given his current elevation, there is a 93 chance that the fall would result in his death."

Even though irritated that she didn't seem too bothered by that possibility, Trip agreed with the Vulcan. "Yeah, let's not piss it off too much, Malcolm. I'm kinda out on a limb here."

Reed groaned at the engineer's pathetic attempt at humor. "I ought to shoot you on principle, for that last statement."

Oddly heartened by his own bad joke, Malcolm's insulting response, Hoshi's hysterical giggling, and even T'Pol's apparent indifference, Trip decided to give communication a shot.

He returned his full attention to the Blob. Several of its limbs snaked closer to his face. He cleared his throat preparatory to speaking, and the tendrils retreated slightly.

"Uh, greetings. I'm Commander Charles Tucker III from the starship _Enterprise_," he began self-consciously. "I'm—we're..." He arched his back in order to gesture at his comrades below. "...from a planet called Earth. We're explorers."

The Blob did not respond. _Maybe chatting isn't its thing,_ Trip mused. The tendrils edged closer to his face, as if it sensed his speech.

"Uh...we come in peace!" he continued grandly, making a sweeping, melodramatic gesture with his arms. "We mean you no harm!"

"I don't think that last statement carries a great deal of weight, Commander, considering your current predicament," Reed heckled. Hoshi smothered another laugh.

"Malcolm, unless you wanna trade places with me, I'd keep the commentary to a minimum," Trip snarled.

"It appears to be a silicate life form," T'Pol announced unsolicited, having returned to scanning with her tricorder.

_Geez,_ Trip groused. _Could she be any _less_ worried about the near death experience I'm havin' here?_

"That's great, T'Pol," he snapped. "But how's it s'posed to help me?"

Before the Vulcan could respond, Hoshi shrieked out a warning. "Commander!"

The alien seemed to have decided that curiosity trumped caution. Apparently intent on discovering the source of the sounds the human was making, the creature's "fingers" descended over Trip's face. Before the engineer realized what was happening, bits of Blob had oozed into his nose and mouth.

Hoshi's scream hung in the air as she, T'Pol, and Reed watched their comrade's entire head disappear beneath the alien tendrils. The engineer's arms and legs began to thrash wildly.

Growing up in Florida, Trip had come close to drowning once or twice, but he'd never experienced suffocation. It was an entirely different sensation. The tendril that entered his mouth seemed innocuous at first, more of an irritation than a threat. But it didn't stop there; it continued down his throat. It expanded. Was it in his nasal cavity as well? Trip couldn't tell. All he knew was that he couldn't breathe.

His lungs strained to eject the mass blocking his airway. He tried pulling the obstruction from his throat. He struggled violently, desperation overcoming his fear of falling. None of his efforts were successful.

He couldn't breathe.

_This is it,_ he thought. _I'm going to die._

* * *

Malcolm did not hesitate. The instant he realized that his friend was in serious danger, he leveled his phase pistol. T'Pol, however, was faster. She knocked his shot into the floor of the cavern, where it kicked dust and rocks all over them. When he turned a furious look on her, she stared him down.

"A warning shot," she directed with uncharacteristic fierceness. "At a sufficient distance that it will harm neither Mr. Tucker nor the creature."

Reed gritted his teeth at the restriction, but at least he was being allowed to do _something_. He fired off a shot that barely cleared the alien's vast bulk. The creature did not react at all, and his friend's struggles became even more frantic. "Again," T'Pol ordered, pulling her own phase pistol as she did so. Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm noticed that Hoshi had drawn her weapon as well, and was standing by resolutely, waiting for instructions despite her fear.

The Armory Officer fired another warning shot, but again the alien took no notice. "Fire one shot—on stun—into the creature," T'Pol directed, as she checked the setting of her weapon. As Malcolm moved swiftly to comply, the creature retreated from the edge of the mesa, taking Trip with it.

* * *

The obstruction in his throat withdrew with a small "pop"—like a cork exploding from a champagne bottle. Air rushed back into his lungs. Trip lay gasping and coughing, overjoyed by the simple act of breathing.

Once he had drawn enough oxygen back into his system for his brain to function properly, he realized that he was no longer upside-down. He was laying on his side, cradled in a cocoon of sorts, and someone was patting his back, as if he were a baby being burped. Someone else was stroking his face and hair gently. He relaxed for a moment before his memory snapped him back to full awareness.

_What the hell?!_

Was the Blob giving him TLC? Trip's mind floundered a moment in utter confusion. Yes, it was definitely the alien cradling him, and soothing him, and patting him. It seemed to be...apologizing?

* * *

"Trip!" Malcolm heard his own yell of desperation as if it had come from someone else. T'Pol also cried out, and the wavering timbre of her voice startled Reed. The Vulcan had almost sounded emotional! He glanced over, appalled to see that she, too, was at a loss. They looked up at the precipice as one, staring at the spot where the outline of the creature was barely visible from their steep angle. There was no sign of Trip at all.

"Sato to _Enterprise_!" Unlike her superiors, Hoshi was not out of ideas.

Static met her hail.

The Communications Officer refused to admit defeat. "An alien creature has attacked Commander Tucker," she continued determinedly. "We cannot get to his position. Is it possible to lock onto him with the transporter?" The landing party waited in breathless silence for some response.

But they were too deep in the caverns. There was only white noise.

Hoshi threw her comrades a despairing glance. There was nothing they could do. Then the deafening silence was broken by a sound from above.

Coughing.

* * *

It took Trip several moments to get his bearings. He couldn't see anything but the gray surface of the alien, which continued to stroke and soothe him with multiple tendrils. Trip got the distinct impression that it was distraught at nearly having killed him.

On the periphery of his senses, the engineer thought he heard voices. He realized that his colleagues couldn't see or hear him at all. They were probably thinking the worst. Or maybe Hoshi was taking the chance to tell Malcolm and T'Pol, "I told you so. It ate him!"

"Hey!" Trip attempted to call to his friends. His first effort merely led to more coughing. He cleared his sore throat and tried again. "Hey! I'm okay!" He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees in an attempt to see over the wall of Blob surrounding him. The alien obligingly flattened the section of its bulk between the engineer and the rest of the landing party.

At first, Trip could only see the edge of the mesa, but then the Blob slithered forward a bit and his friends came into view. Trip waved at them. They stared up at him incredulously. Trip squinted his eyes in wonder. Was that _relief_ on T'Pol's face?

"I'm okay," he repeated. "I don't think it meant me any harm."

"You don't _think_?!" Reed was apoplectic. "Commander, that creature nearly smothered you! How could it _not_ have meant harm?!?"

"I think it was just tryin' to figure out where the sound was coming from. I don't think it knows about respiration," the engineer explained.

Despite herself, T'Pol was impressed with Commander Tucker's reasoning. "A logical conclusion, given how different the creature's anatomy is from our own," she concurred.

Reed narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan. Just a moment ago, she had been as worried about their friend's fate as he; Malcolm was sure of it. Now she was back to touting logic? But his investigation of the Vulcan's emotional dishonesty was derailed by the Communications Officer.

"Um, Sir?" Hoshi called tentatively, pointing.

Reed and T'Pol looked up in time to see the alien extend a section of its mass to circle the human's torso, pulling Trip back into a sitting position. The engineer raised his arms nervously, unsure whether a defensive maneuver was called for. Several tendrils broke off from the main body to pat him reassuringly on the head again. He lowered his arms.

"Commander?" T'Pol inquired, her voice tinged with concern. Reed, who had lowered his phase pistol, raised it again.

"It's okay," Trip called, never taking his eyes from the band of Blob around his chest and diaphragm. "I think it's trying to figure out the breathing thing."

"Perhaps you can verbally explain the process to the creature," T'Pol suggested.

Trip threw her a cutting look. "I'm an engineer, not a biologist!"

"You are also the only human currently in direct contact with the alien," the Vulcan retorted.

Trip sighed. One of the Blob's tendrils, intrigued by the gust of air, moved closer to his mouth. Slightly panicked, Trip raised his hand to grasp the curious limb. The alien made no effort to withdraw or advance. At first, the tendril lay passively in his grip. Then it divided into several fingers which gently intertwined with the human's.

_I'm holdin' hands with an alien Blob!_ Trip thought, astounded. Aloud, he announced delightedly to the landing party, "I think it likes me!"

"Oh, Lord, here we go again," Reed muttered. "He'd better not get pregnant this time!" Hoshi choked back another giggle.

"Commander, please focus," the unamused Vulcan admonished the engineer.

"Sorry, T'Pol." Trip sorted through his admittedly rusty knowledge of human anatomy. "Humans require oxygen." He took a deep breath to prove it. "We breathe it in through our nose..."

"Or mouth!" Hoshi reminded.

"Yeah, nose or mouth," Trip corrected himself. "It's a personal choice."

"Don't confuse the creature!" Malcolm nagged.

"Please refrain from distracting Mr. Tucker," T'Pol chided. "As he has stated, he is an engineer, not a biologist."

"O-_kay_!" Trip continued, pausing a moment to glare at the Vulcan. "We take oxygen in through either our nose _or_ mouth, it goes down the windpipe, and into the lungs." As he described the path the air would take, Trip moved the Blob's "hand" to each location he mentioned. He repeated the procedure several times, breathing deeply all the while, in order to demonstrate.

"Good, Sir!" Hoshi encouraged him. "Verbal and kinesthetic communication techniques, not to mention modeling!"

"That's Hoshi Sato," Trip whispered to the Blob. "She's a language geek."

Malcolm Reed rolled his eyes at Hoshi's professional obsession. "Why don't you communicate to your new friend that you'd like to go home now?" The Armory Officer was not all that impressed with the engineer's first contact skills, either.

"That's Malcolm Reed. He likes to shoot things." Trip continued to surreptitiously introduce the landing party to the alien.

"Commander, what is the status of your communication with the alien?" T'Pol attempted to get their mission back on track.

"That's T'Pol. She's a Vulcan." Trip could think of no other way to explain _Enterprise's_ First Officer. "She's really not as bad as she seems," he added, not wanting the Blob to get a negative first impression of his pointy-eared friend.

Aloud, the engineer said, "I think it gets the respiratory system. But..." Trip paused, realizing that tendrils were now encircling his wrists and edging along his collarbone towards his throat.

Reed and T'Pol identified the change in situation simultaneously and reacted according to their natures. The Vulcan whipped out her tricorder, and the Armory Officer aimed his phase pistol again. Hoshi opted for her own specialty. "Commander?" she queried uncertainly.

Trip held up his hand to forestall any hasty action. "I think it's wondering about my pulse now," he said, praying that he was correct.

"So continue the anatomy lesson with the circulatory system," the Communications Officer coached. "Just use the same techniques that you did for the respiratory system. You did that really well, Sir!"

Trip grinned at the linguist's enthusiasm, silently berating himself for his earlier joke at her expense. She had unknowingly supplied him with some of the vocabulary he would need.

"The circulatory system," he began without preamble, "pumps blood all over the body." He hesitated, trying to recall the rest of the basics.

"Blood carries nutrients!" Reed supplied.

"And oxygen and carbon dioxide," Hoshi chimed in.

"It facilitates the excretion of waste materials," T'Pol offered.

"Exactly!" Trip agreed eagerly. Sophomore biology was all coming back to him now. "The circulatory system is what carries everything the human body needs everywhere it needs to go!" He pressed his hand to his chest so that the Blob could feel his heart beating. "The heart pumps the blood all over, and the blood cells carry the supplies. Now, what you're feeling here," he raised his wrists slightly, "and here," he touched his jugular, "is the pulse. That's the rate at which the heart pumps the blood through the body."

Trip stopped, wondering if his explanation made any sense to the creature. There was an uneasy pause. The engineer fervently hoped the alien was pondering the lesson and not contemplating his demise.

Suddenly, the band around his upper torso receded. The Blob began to meander down his legs to his feet, leaving Trip flustered to realize that his jumpsuit and undershirt were flapping open. Apparently the Blob had taken some liberties while checking his pulse!

"You appear to be in a state of deshabille, Commander!" Reed chortled from below, noticing the engineer's wardrobe malfunction. T'Pol raised an eyebrow. Hoshi's giggle blossomed into a full-fledged belly laugh.

Trip fumbled to restore his clothing to its full and upright position. Before he could respond to Malcolm's comment, the Blob located his toes. His startled yelp diffused his colleagues' humor better than any wisecrack he could have made. Their amusement quickly morphed back to concern.

"Report!" T'Pol demanded.

"It's found my feet," Trip explained, squirming uncomfortably. "It obviously doesn't understand 'bout bein' ticklish."

The alien had managed to ooze part of itself inside the engineer's boots. Before Trip knew what was happening, his footwear had popped off his feet—shoes _and_ socks! "Hey!" he cried indignantly, before being distracted by the bits of Blob that intertwined with his toes. "Damn!" he complained to the landing party. "It's definitely interested in the digits!" A quick look in their direction revealed varying expressions of curiosity, unease, and outright disgust. Then the creature was on the move again, seeping up the legs of his jumpsuit.

"Yeeaaah!" Trip caterwauled, a sound combining both alarm and outrage at an elevated volume.

"Commander!" Reed cried, bringing his weapon to bear. "Are you all right?!"

Trip, red-faced, took a moment to catch his breath, trying to maneuver into a less embarrassing position. "Yeah, Malcolm, I'm fine." He drew his knees up slightly and pressed his hands into his lap. "I think the alien and I just had our first discussion about inappropriate touching!"

At this statement, Hoshi Sato nearly toppled over with laughter. Reed glanced at her and then back at the engineer, trying to maintain a professional mien, but it was too much for him, and he began to chuckle as well. T'Pol responded with her ubiquitous raised eyebrow.

"Glad to be such an amusement to you," Trip grumbled.

"You seem to be irresistible to alien lifeforms, Commander!" the Armory Officer rejoined.

"I wouldn't draw too much attention to myself if I were you, Malcolm," the engineer snapped. "I get the feeling that this guy is real interested in how our species procreates." Trip's eyes glinted maliciously. "And I'm pretty sure that the lines of communication aren't clear enough yet to explain that two males can't successfully make babies together!"

Reed ceased laughing abruptly, a horrified look taking over his face. "Bloody hell!" the Armory Officer expostulated, taking a large step back.

Trip smirked before turning his attention back to T'Pol. "In all seriousness, Sub-Commander, I think it is curious about the...uhm...  
the...dual-gendered nature of our species." He paused, drawing his knees up further and resting his elbows on them. "I'm not sure I know how to explain that one."

Hoshi, who had managed to get her bout of hilarity under control, took a deep breath and stepped forward. "I could help with that, Sir!"

The Vulcan gave the linguist a searching look. Hoshi leapt to argue her case. "Well, I _am_ a human female. Not to mention the fact that I'm the Communications Officer."

"Ensign," Reed blurted, "the creature is interested in dual-gendered _procreation_! It might make you...it might expect you to..." The Armory Officer blundered to a halt, mortified by the implications.

T'Pol stepped in. "I believe Lieutenant Reed is attempting to caution you, Ensign, that there is the possibility that the alien would expect you to demonstrate the process of human procreation with Commander Tucker."

"Geez, T'Pol," Trip snarled from above. "You don't need to make it sound like a fate worse than death. It's not like she's gonna be throwing herself on a live grenade!"

Hoshi hid a smile. "I'm willing to take that risk, Sub-Commander," she stated firmly.

"What about _me_!?" Trip demanded. "Maybe I'm not!" When they all turned to him in surprise, he became even angrier. "What is it with you people? When did I get the reputation as some kind of galactic floozie?"

"Well, you did get pregnant by that Xyrillian engineer, Sir," Hoshi reminded him.

"Not to mention becoming extremely...friendly with the Kriosian princess," added Malcolm.

"In addition," T'Pol began, "I believe that Liana—"

"I was a perfect gentleman in each and every one of those situations!" Trip protested. There was a moment of amused silence while he gave Hoshi a surly glare. "It's up to you, Ensign, but I'm tellin' you right now, I have no intention of demonstratin' anything!"

"I'll try to curb my disappointment that you won't be letting me have my way with you, Sir," she responded, setting down her communicator and phase pistol and walking toward the wall of the mesa.

It took a moment for the wisecrack to sink in. Then Reed and Tucker sputtered with laughter. Hoshi grinned in appreciation and stood patiently by the mesa wall, waiting for the alien to make contact.

She didn't have long to wait. The creature extended a limb down to her. Hoshi touched it tentatively, unsure how to proceed. The alien took matters into its own hands, as it were, scooping her up and carrying her swiftly to the top of the precipice.

Despite her sassy words, Hoshi was relieved when the creature situated her at a distance several meters from Commander Tucker. He waved and smiled encouragingly. "Ensign Hoshi Sato, meet Bob," he introduced. "Bob, this is Hoshi."

Hoshi gave him an odd look. "Bob, Sir?"

"Well, I've been calling it the Blob, but that seemed kind of unfriendly," Trip explained. "Bob seemed like a good compromise."

"I think the Sub-Commander would say that it's illogical to give an asexual creature a gendered nickname, Commander," the Communications Officer stated with mock severity.

"You are quite correct, Ensign," T'Pol agreed. Trip rolled his eyes at the humorless response, and Hoshi diplomatically converted a laugh into a cough. Her attention was distracted as the alien tendrils began to inspect her. They seemed particularly interested in her hair, but they also prodded her face, nose, and ears. Hoshi patiently explained that the differences in hair and facial features it was noticing had nothing to do with gender.

Bob continued with a quick inspection of her respiratory and circulatory system, similar to that which the engineer had undergone. Hoshi felt her face redden. What had she gotten herself into?

"Woooo!" she yipped as Bob weaseled its way inside her undershirt. She slapped both hands crossways over her chest. "Yes!" she assured the alien. "_Those_ are girl parts!"

"Good thing we have a specialist working on this first contact situation," Malcolm Reed grumbled sarcastically. "How many years of linguistics study did you need for _that_ complex terminology, Ensign?"

Commander Tucker, torn between concern and laughter, opted for the latter. "See?" he asked between chuckles. "Maybe it _wasn't_ so illogical to give Bob a male name!" Hoshi glowered at the engineer, then turned her baleful glare on Reed. Before she could speak, however, T'Pol remedied the situation.

"Lieutenant, you are perfectly welcome to volunteer if you are dissatisfied with Ensign Sato's efforts," she stated calmly. That shut Malcolm up. Hoshi grinned wickedly.

For its part, the creature politely withdrew from her shirt and turned its attention to her lower limbs. Once again Hoshi shifted nervously. It was only her feet now, but obviously the alien didn't intend to stop there! She cast a sidelong glance at her superior officer who had stopped laughing and was back to watching closely, like a protective older brother.

Suddenly her boots and socks popped off, and the alien oozed around her toes. Hoshi wiggled around a bit, although the sensation was not entirely unpleasant. "It really _does_ seem to have a foot fetish!" she whispered.

Trip laughed, but sobered quickly. "Don't hesitate to let Bob know when he's gone too far, Hoshi," he cautioned. "He's pretty respectful, once he figures out what's what."

"So I shouldn't let the alien get fresh with me, Commander?" Hoshi questioned impishly.

"Damn right, Ensign!" Tucker responded in kind. "We wouldn't want to give our species a bad reputation."

They shared a hearty laugh which seemed to give the alien pause. Hoshi looked curiously at the engineer.

"Did you get that too, Sir?" she asked.

"Like it was wondering about the laughing?" Trip clarified. "Yeah, I did. Should we try to explain it?"

Before Hoshi could give the matter any serious thought, she was again distracted. Bob was now oozing its way up her legs. To her extreme embarrassment, she realized that she was going to have to allow it _some_ liberties if it was to get an idea of the basic differences between male and female anatomy. The linguist shifted uncertainly, glancing at Commander Tucker as she did so. The engineer seemed to realize exactly what was on her mind. His ears turned red, and he studiously averted his eyes, as though to afford her some privacy.

The Communications Officer remained still as long as she could, which wasn't very long. "Okay, that's it!" she announced firmly, slapping her hands on her thighs. "Show's over!"

_How much time does it take to figure out the main differences between boys and girls, anyway?_ she rationalized.

Once again Bob politely retreated, and Commander Tucker looked back in her direction, relieved that the awkward situation was over.

"Status, Ensign?" Any lingering embarrassment dissipated entirely in the face of the Vulcan's clinical inquiry.

"I'd say that the creature has explored enough to figure out the basics of a dual-gendered species." Hoshi grinned at Tucker. "Although I'm guessing that Bob has a lot more questions."

"Such as?"

"Laughing, for one," Hoshi went on.

"Explain."

Hoshi and Trip shared a consulting glance, then the engineer responded. "It's just that every time someone told a joke or smarted off, Bob seemed interested in our physical reaction."

"That's right," Hoshi agreed. "It definitely displayed curiosity whenever we laughed."

"How the devil do you explain laughter to a creature that hasn't the slightest idea about humor?" Reed wanted to know.

"Sub-Commander? You wanna handle that one?" Trip drawled insolently.

The First Officer gave the engineer a fishy stare. "Vulcans understand humor, Commander," she responded coldly. "We simply do not practice or respond to it." There was a pregnant pause. "Particularly humor of such a primitive nature," she continued, raising an eyebrow pointedly in his direction.

The engineer huffed indignantly at the insult, but Sato and Reed snickered in appreciation. T'Pol maintained her usual stoic expression. Trip narrowed his eyes at her. "Maybe you're the one to explain the concept then, Sub-Commander," he needled. "You can lay it out in a nice logical manner, without confusing the issue with any pesky emotions."

T'Pol turned her gaze to the Armory Officer. "Remain here, Lieutenant," she ordered, obviously intending to take up the engineer's challenge.

"But, Sub-Commander..." Reed began.

"I think it has been firmly established that the creature means us no harm," T'Pol cut him off, handing him her phase pistol while retaining the tricorder. "However, should something untoward occur, please return to the shuttlepod and apprise the Captain." She calmly walked toward the base of the cliff, leaving Malcolm furrowing his brow in concern.

For its part, Bob seemed to feel that the bipeds meant no harm either. Rather than extending a limb to the Vulcan, as it had done with Hoshi, the alien oozed over the edge of the precipice and lowered its vast bulk to the cavern floor. T'Pol stepped back to make room for the creature, noticing that Tucker and Sato were both goggle-eyed and slightly breathless at the sudden and unexpected drop. Neither, however, made any move to abandon their contact with the alien.

If any of _Enterprise's_ human crew members had been hoping to see their Vulcan First Officer discomposed, they were disappointed. T'Pol reclined into the torso of the alien as gracefully as she accomplished most tasks. While Bob perused her anatomy, she provided a running commentary on the differences between Vulcan and human biology, all the while running scans on her tricorder. For all his previous irritation with her, Trip couldn't help but admire T'Pol's unflappable acceptance of what was without a doubt an extremely personal inspection.

_Now _that's_ the way ya do a first contact,_ he thought, impressed.

The engineer was, however, amused to note that Bob seemed particularly taken with the First Officer's ears. He tried to hide a smile as T'Pol reached to brush away yet another probing tendril. His reaction was not lost on the Vulcan. She glanced up from her tricorder, commenting drily, "The alien would seem to share the human obsession with Vulcan ears, Commander." When Bob poked yet another tentacle in the direction of the body parts in question, T'Pol rebuked it sternly. "Please desist." The creature obeyed with alacrity.

"It certainly has no doubt about who's in charge here," Malcolm commented drolly.

"Definitely a sign of intelligent life," Hoshi murmured, causing Trip and Reed to chuckle.

"I agree, Ensign." T'Pol maintained her traditional role of straight man. "However, we still have not explained the concept of laughter to the creature."

"All kidding aside," Trip said, "I think that might be a little beyond our ability so early in the relationship."

"Not if it is done in a logical manner, Commander," the Vulcan replied. "You will have noticed," T'Pol addressed her next remarks to the alien, "that laughter increases blood pressure and heart rate in humans, as well as changing their breathing patterns. It is a physiological response to an emotion known as humor."

The cavern was silent as the humans focused on the alien, attempting to gauge whether or not it had understood the extremely dry explanation. The continued stillness suggested it had not.

"Hell, you can't expect a Vulcan to explain laughin' or humor," Trip groused. He attempted to set the alien straight. "Laughing is what humans do when we think something is funny,"

"Or when we're happy," Hoshi added.

"We usually do it when we're with friends," Reed contributed.

T'Pol surprised them by agreeing with the Armory Officer's statement. "Lieutenant Reed is correct. Laughter is most often a communal activity. Scientists believe it may have evolved as a method of relieving tension after the stress of a 'fight or flight' response. The result of this evolution is laughter's current status as an indicator of trust in one's companions."

T'Pol's human colleagues gaped at her, startled by her firm grasp of the topic.

"According to cultural anthropologist Mahadev Apte," the Vulcan continued her lecture, "laughter is the primary method for making and strengthening connections in human interaction. It is one of the most important ways by which humans form bonds."

"Damn!" Trip blurted in surprise. "That _was_ logical!" When T'Pol glanced over to judge the engineer's sincerity, he added, "Great explanation, T'Pol!"

The First Officer inclined her head regally. "Thank you, Commander."

Bob writhed about for a moment, unsettling his passengers. Reed stepped forward, fingering his phaser uncertainly. It seemed unlikely that the creature would turn violent at this point, but the Armory Officer refused to be unprepared. Malcolm's nervous tension increased as he watched his crewmates exchange a series of glances. Some kind of unspoken communication seemed to be going on between them.

"Sub-Commander?" Reed sought an explanation from T'Pol.

"Stand down, Lieutenant," the Vulcan reassured him. "If I am not mistaken..." T'Pol trailed off, looking to her human colleagues for corroboration.

"I think Bob wants to know why T'Pol doesn't laugh," Hoshi ventured. Trip nodded in agreement.

"I told it earlier that you were a Vulcan," he said. "But obviously that wouldn't mean much to someone who never met any Vulcans."

T'Pol acknowledged his input with a nod and immediately launched into an explanation. "As you are now aware, I am of a different species than these humans. My people are called Vulcans. We follow a path of logic that precludes indulging in emotions, including humor." She paused a moment before further clarifying. "Vulcans do not, therefore, laugh."

There was another charged silence as they all waited for Bob's reaction. It came in the form of an undulation that placed T'Pol at the far end of its bulk, the maximum distance possible from her human colleagues.

The meaning was obvious.

"No!" Trip refuted indignantly. "It doesn't make her an outsider. She's part of our crew!" He caught T'Pol's eye, continuing for her benefit as well. "She's our friend!" he stated emphatically.

Sato and Reed nodded in agreement.

"Absolutely!" Reed asserted, moving closer to the Blob.

"We're like a team," Hoshi chirped. "Or a family!"

T'Pol sat speechless. Her human crewmates had never said anything of this to her. She knew that they accepted and respected her, but she would never have considered herself part of their "family," as Ensign Sato so emotionally put it. She had no idea that they felt this way about her. Nor that they felt it so strongly! But their conviction was evident—honest and unrehearsed. Natural.

"It is true," she assured the alien, although she had to work to keep her voice even. "I am accepted and appreciated on _Enterprise_, despite my differences."

Yet another silence fell. Then another sudden undulation tossed T'Pol abruptly back in the midst of her human friends. She was momentarily disconcerted to realize that she had landed in Commander Tucker's lap.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, startled and amused. "You okay, T'Pol?" She felt his hands on her shoulders—a tactile expression of concern.

"Yes, Commander," she answered, looking him in the face. "Thank you." She held his gaze for a moment longer than was necessary, hoping he would realize that her thanks were for more than his inquiry about her well-being. He smiled and nodded his understanding.

"Well, Bob, whaddya think?" he asked the alien, patting its gray hide familiarly. He kept his other hand supportively on T'Pol's shoulder.

The alien wriggled in reply, much like an eager, friendly puppy. The motion shunted its passengers back to the floor of the cavern, where they stood looking at each other, uncertain of the next step.

"So what's our plan, Sub-Commander?" Hoshi finally asked, stooping to put on her socks and shoes.

T'Pol glanced back at the alien. "Obviously an intelligent life form, worthy of further study," she decided. "We will report as much to the Captain." She turned her attention to the engineer. "You are to be commended, Mr. Tucker." At his startled reaction, she explained. "A very successful first contact situation, despite early...difficulties."

The engineer beamed with delight at the praise. "Thanks, T'Pol!"

Reed snickered. "Maybe if you let every alien grope and fondle you, all our first contacts would meet the same level of success."

"Malcolm..." Trip growled warningly.

Hoshi averted a squabble by interrupting. "I know what you're trying to do, Sir," she said to Reed. "But it won't work!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Ensign," the Armory Officer responded haughtily, although his eyes shifted to avoid meeting hers.

"You're trying to make out like it was some kind of sexual thing!" the Communications Officer accused. She eyed him suspiciously. "What did you have in the pool, Sir?"

Reed flushed red. Tucker glared at him, suddenly enlightened.

"You picked me to get felt up by an alien in the ship's pool?" he squawked indignantly. "Damn, Malcolm, you really need to wash your mind out!"

"It was nothing personal, Commander," Reed cajoled. "And given your track record, it seemed like a good bet."

"Well, don't look for it to pay off," Sato scolded, before Tucker could reply. "I can say firsthand that there was nothing sexual about today's first contact!"

Reed narrowed his eyes at the Communications Officer. "What did _you_ have in the pool, Hoshi?"

"I bet that Commander Tucker's...uhm...misfortune...would involve fire, so my opinion is completely unbiased." When she noticed the engineer's outraged look, she rushed to explain. "I'm sorry, Sir! It's just that nothing like that has happened to you yet, so the odds seemed better!"

Trip was irate. "I'm glad my mishaps are such a source of amusement for you two!" he snapped, glowering at Hoshi and Malcolm, who had the grace to look ashamed. Finally, however, the engineer grudgingly broke the silence. "So who _did_ win this time?"

Malcolm and Hoshi looked at each other, then shrugged in concert.

"I don't know if any of the categories match what happened here," Hoshi admitted, giving Bob a friendly pat. The alien patted her back amiably.

"I believe," T'Pol spoke up, "that the outcome of this mission would fall under the category that Ensign Mayweather refers to as 'catchall.'" When the humans turned their disbelieving stares on her, she elaborated. "The category encompasses all those possibilities not specifically listed."

"How the bloody hell do you know that?" Reed demanded.

"I chose 'catchall' in the ship's pool," the Vulcan explained.

If T'Pol had been human, she might have laughed at the shocked looks on their faces. But she was a Vulcan, so she had to make do with a bland expression and a raised eyebrow. "Statistically, 'catchall' was the most promising category," she went on. "It encompasses a truly infinite number of possibilities."

"You bet that somethin' bad would happen to me?!" Trip finally found his voice. "Is that why you weren't too bothered when it looked like Bob was gonna drop me?" he demanded.

T'Pol calmly refuted his accusation. "Not at all, Commander. I believe Ensign Cutler had 'falling from a height' in the pool." When the engineer continued to sputter with indignation, she went on. "Captain Archer suggested that I make a greater effort to socialize with the crew. The ship's pool seemed a logical method of doing so."

Trip continued to open and close his mouth like an irate guppy, but Reed and Sato had long since seen the humor of the situation. Both succumbed to fits of laughter, holding their sides, pointing at him, and wiping away tears of mirth.

The engineer eyed them grouchily for a moment, then looked back at T'Pol. Eventually, he couldn't swim against the tide any longer, and he began to laugh as well.

T'Pol of Vulcan stood quietly with her hands behind her back, watching her human crewmates become nearly incapacitated with laughter. She easily suppressed any emotional response, despite the temptation. Just because she herself did not laugh did not mean that she could not induce others to do so.

As she continued to observe with benign satisfaction, she noticed the alien extend a tendril toward her. T'Pol acknowledged Bob's congratulatory pat on the back with a serene nod.


End file.
